


Rest stop on I-80

by faithfully



Series: Soaked Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfully/pseuds/faithfully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has to pee but Dean doesn't want to stop the car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest stop on I-80

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 23, Dean is 27.  
> Contains accidental wetting, don't read if that's not your thing.

They were 30 miles inside Iowa, going west on I-80 on their way back to Kansas. They'd been on the road since 8 that morning and it was nearing noon. Sam was fidgeting in the passenger seat. They hadn't said two words to each other since they left the motel this morning, but that wasn't unusual for a lazy Sunday morning of driving.  
  
Dean glanced over at Sam, who was staring out the window. His long legs were crossed, one over the other, while he drummed along with the music with his fingers on his knee. To the casual observer, Sam looked bored, but otherwise fairly relaxed. Dean was no casual observer. He knew what Sam's crossed legs and drumming fingers meant.  
  
"Thought we'd go another hour then stop to grab a bite to eat, how's that sound?" He said over the music.  
  
Sam looked over at him like he was surprised to hear Dean speak. "Another hour?" Dean could see him thinking it over, calculating how long he could wait. "Okay."  
  
Dean smiled. Sam was always so optimistic about how long he could hold his bladder. Dean knew better, had made it his job to know, in fact, and he knew there was no way Sam was going to last a whole hour. "Good!" He said, feeling even better about this day than he did this morning.  
  
Sam made it another twenty minutes before he asked Dean to take a stop.  
  
"We're deep in the heart of real life FarmVille right now, little brother. Not sure there's going to be another town for a while."  
  
Sam, to his credit, did not whine. But he did tighten his legs a little as he nodded and turned to once again stare out the window.  
  
Ten minutes later he asked again. Dean figured he was getting pretty desperate by that point.  
  
“How bad off are you?” he asked, more curious than concerned.  
  
“What do you think?” Sam replied in a flat voice.  
  
“I think there’s a rest stop about 20 miles away I should probably aim for.”  
  
“I think you should aim for something closer.”  
  
Dean gestured to the road in front of them. “I’d love to make something appear out of thin air just for you, Sammy, but I’m afraid that’s a little beyond my reach.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Keep driving.”  
  
They were only 5 miles out from the rest stop when Sam begged him to pull over.  
  
“Dean, just stop the car. I am not going to piss myself.”  
  
“Not again, you mean?”  
  
Sam glared at him. “You promised you wouldn’t say jack next time I needed a stop, and if memory serves, you pissed yourself that day too.”  
  
“Only ‘cause you made me.”  
  
“Uh huh. Look, I don’t particularly feel like a repeat of that at the moment, so please, pull over the damn car.”  
  
“We’re literally 2 miles out, look,” Dean pointed at the sign: “Rest Stop, next right.”  
  
“Fine, whatever.” Sam was silent for a moment, shifting to a better position, hand pressed hard against his crotch. “If I piss on this seat I am not cleaning it up.”  
  
Small price to pay, Dean thought to himself. Not today, though. Dean merely nodded and gunned the engine to cover the last mile in less than a minute.  
  
He had barely put the car in park when Sam threw the door open and barreled out, making a beeline for the men’s room and not even pausing to shut the car door. Dean shut it for him and hurried in after, just in time to see Sam lose it.  
  
He was standing in the last stall, door wide open, clutching his half-unbuckled belt in one hand and his crotch in the other. Piss was making dark streaks down both legs of his jeans, quickly soaking the fabric as it pooled in a yellowed puddle at his feet. Dean watched the show in awe, feeling slightly guilty but mostly just turned on.  
  
“Sam?” Dean whispered.  
  
Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Just, shut the door,” he said quietly.  
  
Dean glanced around, and seeing that they were alone, joined Sam in the stall. He threw the lock on the door and turned to Sam.  
  
“Don’t,” Sam warned.  
  
Dean put his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t going to say anything.”  
  
“This is your fault.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You wanted this to happen.”  
  
Dean hesitated.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
“Okay, maybe. A little. Are you pissed?”  
  
Sam shook his head and gave a faint smile. “Poor choice of words, there, Dean.”  
  
Dean relaxed. As long as Sam was joking, this was going to be okay. “Yeah, that might have been on purpose.”  
  
“You’re a jerk.”  
  
“And you’re a bitch. What else is new?”  
  
“Well, this is yet another pair of jeans I have to burn.”  
  
“It’ll wash out.”  
  
“You really want these stinking up the Impala until we get to a Laundromat?”  
  
“Fair point. Maybe we should get you some diapers, huh?”  
  
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”  
  
“What do you mean by that?”  
  
“Nothing. Can you get me some clean clothes from the car?”  
  
“Yeah, okay.”  
  
“And Dean?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Wait to jerk off until I can join you?”  
  
Dean grinned and practically skipped to the Impala. 


End file.
